


To Sacrifice Death

by Nitroglycerin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Falling In Love, Immortal Harry, Immortal Harry Potter, Immortality, Prophecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 15:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30023922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitroglycerin/pseuds/Nitroglycerin
Summary: Throughout his life Harry is meeting Lady Death. Harry finds out that in order to bring Voldemort down, he will have to sacrifice the greatest certainity in life. His own death.
Relationships: Death/Harry Potter
Kudos: 12





	To Sacrifice Death

He was only a small moment from witnessing the horrible murder of his own mother, when he met her for the first time. Despite its obstacles, small Harry sit up in his cradle to face the foreign person approaching him in his own room. He felt no fear, just curiosity.

The Lady approached him with a gentle smile and love in her eyes. Every soul she collected was different and carried a different message. Some were darker and filled with anger, yet some were light and caring. She loved them all, the dark ones as well. To her, they were not evil. For her, the concept of good and evil did not exist. She cherished them all, as it was Life’s way of communicating with her. They were the original star-crossed lovers, both casted on the opposite sides of the veil, never being able to see each other or touch each other. But Life found his way around, he always does. And it planted seeds of souls throughout the world for Death to collect as blossomed flowers. And she collected them and saved them, as a lover would one’s letters.

This one, Harry Potter’s, was especially sweet and loving. It made her smile, knowing that Life was thinking about her while creating him. She reached her hand out to him, in a beckoning motion, tempting his soul towards her.

„You are not taking this one’s soul,” said a stern voice behind her and Lady Death felt the smile slowly crumple on her face, leaving a bitter feeling behind. She slowly turned to face the person, she despised the most.

“And why is that, Fate? Every soul belongs to me. You cannot deny me my rights,” she said defensively and frowned at the man.

Fate just shook his head. “Only of those, who died.”

“This one is about to die,” countered Death. Just as she finished her words, in ran distraught Lilly Potter and immediately tried to barricade the door, completely unaware of the presence of the two deities. And they just stood there, completely unemotional about the horrible ordeal they were about to witness. Indifference was programmed into them.

Annoyingly, Fate did not say anything and just stood there and they both watched the door getting blown away and Lord Voldemort entering through. They watched as Lilly Potter refused to step aside and casted herself between little Harry and the killing curse.

And they watched as the curse rebounded. Every second of those events only deepened the distaste on Death’s face.

Fate looked at her, with a smug expression. “You see, you cannot take him. Not now, not ever.”

Death laughed bitterly. “You cannot deny me his soul, once he dies.”

“That is true. But I can keep him from dying,” said Fate obnoxiously and he just couldn’t contain his pleasure. He knew how important every soul was to Death. In his giddy state he overshared his knowledge and cited the to be infamous prophecy to her:

_“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and **either must die at the hand of the other** for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies....“_

And with laughter Fate disappeared. Death looked with disgust at the place he stood and looked back to Harry, whose face only a single tear marred, as if he was somewhat aware of the horrible situation bestowed on him. To Death’s surprise, Harry’s eyes were pointed to her. There was no denying that Harry was able to see her. He was not the first person to see her, but they were scarce. Maybe only a handful throughout her entire existence. She came closer towards him and caressed his cheek with love, Harry would not feel for many upcoming years. He could barely feel her touch, for he did not belong to her. It was a silent goodbye as Death parted with a loved gift from Life.

Without another look back, she turned to the motionless body of Lilly Potter and collected her soul. Just as she was about to leave the room, a man ran through her, torn at the sight of his deceased love. _Severus Snape_ , noted Death. She looked forward to collecting his soul. He was Life’s expression of his romance with Death. Strong, unwavering, yet always unfulfilled. Afterwards she turned, collected James Potter’s soul and left to never return back.

This was how they met for the first time, but Harry would not remember it.

The second time they met, was very brief and Harry truly believed that it was a figment of his imagination. He blamed it on the enormous stress he was put under and exhaustion from his fight with Quirrell and through him, with Voldemort.

Harry was just seconds from losing consciousness, but before his eyes completely closed, he saw a beautiful Lady approach them and she felt familiar, but he could not place it. She seemed kind, but so did Quirrell at some point. He tried to will himself to stay awake, he was afraid she might have been helping Voldemort, but his body betrayed him and shut him off to sleep. Last thing he felt, was a gentle touch on the cheek.

As he woke up in the Infirmary, his hand shot to his face first thing in the morning. _It was not real_ , he convinced himself.

It was very sorrowful, when they met for the third time. But then again it was rarely a happy moment, when one got close to Death. Harry noticed her as he was hiding behind a tombstone on that fateful graveyard and with Voldemort shouting for him to fight. She walked from behind him and Harry felt his heart hitch. At first, he thought it was a Deatheater, who managed to get behind his back. In the end, with her black coat, she almost fit in. He saw her hid something shiny in her black coat and then carried on to the battlefield, completely unfazed by the curses flying around her.

Harry did not get much time to dwell on that, as he fought for his life. And he certainly did not see her release four of those shiny things from her black coat, when his and Voldemort’s wands connected. It was his parents, Cedric and that man from his dream that appeared. He got just a fraction of time to get away from the graveyard, so he did not notice the four souls shrink into shiny balls of white light and disappear back into her coat.

Harry did not bother to think about her more afterwards. She was just another Deatheater to him.

And if the last time was sorrowful, it did not measure up to how horrible it was, when they met for the fourth time. Harry heard Bellatrix shout: „Avada Kedavra“ and saw the green light hit his godfather, Sirius Black. For a moment there, he could not believe it, it was as if the world stopped for a second. He could feel his smile disappearing as he watched his godfather stiffen and fall through the Veil.

It was only later that he returned to the Veil.

The aurors, who arrived at the Ministry, allowed him to go there again, in order to let him grieve his dear departed godfather at the place of his death. They closed the door behind him, giving him some privacy.

He stumbled towards the veils, with tears staining his cheeks. His legs were barely able to support him. He could hardly guess, if it was because of exhaustion or from the emotional shock, he once again was exposed to. He knelt down by the Veil and rubbed his face with sleeves of his dirty hoodie. He felt sobs escaping his throat.

But before he was fully allowed to let go of his emotions, he spotted a dark-hooded person on the other side of the Veil. His body immediately entered a fully alert state. He got on his legs, with a wand in his hand and cautiously walked around the Veil, only to come face to face with her. With Death.

Harry pointed his wand at her, but she seemed unfazed by it and just observed the Veil.

“What are you doing here?” gritted Harry through his teeth. Now, he remembered her. “The Aurors are just outside, you have no way of escaping.” Harry would hate to admit it, but deep down he considered hurting her. He needed to put the blame for his godfather’s death on someone and no one else was available.

Finally, he got the attention of the being right before him. She turned his head to him and lovingly smiled at him. “Hello, Harry,” said Death, not at all bother by his wand. Her eyes glided over him with so much depth, it made Harry shiver. It felt as if she could see right into his soul. “You can try it, if you want, but it will do you no good,” said Death softly and nodded to his wand. She seemed almost pleased at this turn of events. Then she turned back to the Veil and rubbed her chin.

Suddenly, Harry got doubtful and slowly lowered his hand. “You are not a Deatheater, are you?” Asked Harry with realization. Cautiously, he closed the distance between them and with pain in his heart he looked at the veil, too. “Who are you, then?”

Death smiled to herself, as if flattered by his attention. “Not who, Harry. What I am? I am often found close to Deatheaters, but I am not one of them. You have met me before, but only in certain moments,” mused Death mysteriously.

Harry looked at her doubtingly for a while, as he put all the information together before his eyes widened at the sudden realization and he breathed out: “You are Death.”

“That I am,” confirmed Death.

“You took everyone from me,” said Harry. There were no traces of anger behind his words, just an utter and complete hurt.

Lady Death just shook her head. “I cannot change Fate, Harry. When someone is destined to die, I take them. But I cannot cross Fate. Only sometimes, I do get the chance to talk to someone and meddle with destiny,” said Death and looked at him, with sadness in her eyes, well-knowing that she could not claim Harry’s soul.

“The others don’t see you. Why do I? Am I about to die?” Asked Harry, confused, but not at all worried, even in case of his impending death.

The Death turned to him and gently caressed his cheek, just like she did before. And Harry welcomed it, a certain sense of familiarity calmed him down. She smiled at him gently and in a way that reminded him of Mrs. Weasley. It was a motherly smile. “I think you own one of my Hallows,” answered Death, but did not give away any more information than she deemed unnecessary. “You won’t die. Not now and not ever. Fate made sure of that.”

Harry craved to ask more questions, because the more he heard, the more confused he was. He would not die? But before he was given the chance to ask again, Death continued.

“Now is my time to go, but we will see each other again,” whispered Death and reached towards the Veil. As if on command, the Veil parted and released a beautiful ball of light, which found its way into Death’s hand. Without another word Death disappeared and the Veil shut itself again. Deep down, Harry knew that it was his godfather’s soul.

It was later in Dumbledore’s office, when he listened to the full prophecy for the first time, that he found out what Death meant. Dumbledore watched him with knowing eyes, troubled by the events of the day. Thanks to Death, Harry knew that Voldemort would lose. But his loss would certainly not be an easily achievable task. He was already concerned about the part that it was him who needed to kill Voldemort.

But that was not what troubled him the most.

“ _... and **either must die at the hand of the other…”**_

They can only die at the hand of the other. Meaning, whoever survives cannot die any other way, granting them the immortality. Harry bitterly chuckled at that prospect. And Voldemort was chasing that his entire life, when it got served to him on a golden platter.

He never mentioned his peculiar encounter to Dumbledore, but something told him that the headmaster knew all along.

The next time they met it was over the body of said headmaster. Defeatedly, Harry fell to the ground next to his body, surrounded by other students and staff. They were aware of his close relationship with Dumbledore and let him grieve in peace. He was shivering from, yet another loss, not being able to process it.

He felt a somewhat cold, yet comforting presence next to him. He did not have to turn his head to know, who it was. She knelt beside him in silence, not registered by anyone else in the opening. She put one arm over his shoulders and pulled him closer to herself. And he allowed it. She happened to be something familiar to him, trusting her without any reason.

She put her other hand over his and together they reached out to touch Dumbledore’s chest. Despite Harry’s hand being between them, Dumbledore’s soul heard its calling and went to its new Mistress. Their hands disentangled, with her hand keeping the soul and hiding it into her coat.

“I will take good care of him, Harry. I love all my souls,” she said. While Harry did not acknowledge the words, she knew he heard her and that it brought him a little bit of comfort.

Nothing else was sad and she left again.

The next time they met was in an adrenaline rush, pumped by the ongoing battle of Hogwarts. He just watched the life disappear from Snape’s eyes and in shaking hand he held the flask with memories. He could feel her presence right behind him, as if a sixth sense.

“Hermione, Ron, could you please give me a moment?” said Harry, almost detached of any emotions. From all the pain and death surrounding him, he felt numb. His friends did not protest and gave him some space.

He turned to face her and breathed out shakily. “I c-cannot die, right?” Asked Harry for assurance.

“Yes,” said Death, as if nothing else was needed to be said.

“What does that mean?” He asked, confused.

Death crouched right next to him, but she left a respectful space between them. “I know, you heard the prophecy. Only he can kill you. No one or nothing else,” said the Death sadly.

“And you know, that Voldemort won’t kill me today?” Asked Harry, with his lips pressed to a thin line. The sound of immortality was not at all appeasing.

“I do. I can feel his souls calling to me already,” answered Death.

Harry nodded and for a moment they sat together in silence. He reached out for Death’s hand since he needed her support. Fate prepared for him a horrible punishment. Harry was uncompromisingly tied to Life, never being able to leave it and go to Death. He would never get to reunite with ones he lost and was destined to watch everyone he loved, disappear.

And again, together as one, they reached for Snape’s soul. Death cradled his soul to her chest, as if it was a baby. A sad smile appeared on her face. Life would always be out of her reach.

Harry could feel her hand softening in his own, as she disappeared and he could hardly keep her there. It was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.

The Light won the Battle and Voldemort was gone. At least that is what the entire world thought. In the end, no one would question the Boy Who Lived.

No one would dare to look close enough to see, that Harry Potter still had two souls.

Harry was very vulnerable, when he found out that he had a part of Voldemort’s soul inside him. He knew that in order to destroy Voldemort completely, he had to kill that part of his soul inside him. In that split second though, he decided on another course. Only Dumbledore and Snape knew about that one small fraction of Voldemort’s soul contained in Harry. Not even Voldemort was aware of that. There was no one else alive, who knew about it.

It was a rash and selfish decision, but Harry thought that for once he could be selfish. He destroyed the memories, so no one else could see them ever again.

He never went to the Forbidden Forest. They won the Battle just the same.

Voldemort disappeared, just not completely, what everyone was led to believe. Not even Ron or Hermione knew it. Harry’s complete and untorn mind was far stronger than Voldemort’s lousy fraction and it was not difficult for Harry to keep him in check. The worst Voldemort’s soul did was to make his scar hurt from time to time. He just made sure to never show it in front of Hermione. He was worried she might be able to piece it all together.

After the Battle he always wore Basilisk’s poison in a vial, which he snatched from the Chamber of Secrets. He wanted to be sure, that if in case Voldemort’s soul started to win, he would be able to stop it.

And he carried on living his life.

At the age of 25, he stopped aging. His body achieved full health and could no longer decline, since the final destination was death. Of course, it did take only a few years, before people started to notice. But he just revealed the prophecy and let people deal with it. There were people, who thought he was the next Dark Lord, but there was hardly anything they could do. In the end, he was the one depraved of the one thing that was certain for everyone else. Death.

Throughout his life, he met Lady Death many times. Sometimes just from a far and they just acknowledged each other with a nod. Sometimes, it was someone close to him as they all aged. In those cases, it was Lady Death who offered him comfort. If they were both people, he would consider them friends.

It was at a time, when his youngest grandkid passed away, that he decided it was time. There was nothing holding him back. He took a vial of poison, which sent him to sleep and to never wake up. He had a small doubt it might not work out. In the end, it was a small part of Voldemort, who raised the vial to his lips, therefore killing Harry, while Harry killed Voldemort.

He was worried, when he opened his eyes, that his attempt failed. However, then he noticed Death sitting right next to him, smiling at him. This time, she looked different than before. No longer grim, instead almost overflowing with colours, and Life. “At last, we meet Harry. We meet the way we were supposed to,” she said with an almost praising voice.

“You were wrong about us never meeting this way,” breathed out Harry in relief, ready for his next journey.

Death’s smile only got even wilder, happier at the outcome. “Was I? I cannot cross Fate. Only sometimes, I do get the chance to talk to someone and meddle with destiny,” resonated her words back at him.

Then it dawned on Harry. She was the reason he kept that part of Voldemort alive. She was the reason he could die. Life’s gift finally reached Death. Harry reached out and embraced Death and she accepted him, as a mother would have her long-lost son. He greeted her as an old friend. He closed his eyes and felt even more relief washed over him. He was, indeed, home. He felt, as she again faded in his arms and he opened his eyes.

He was surrounded by his loved ones. They never did leave.


End file.
